Splitters of millennia
by Likimeya
Summary: Even millennia consist of little moments. Some are beautiful and some are dark. Collection of random MS&T oneshots.
1. What's in a name?

Disclaimer: Unfortunately the MS&T characters don't belong to me but to Tad Williams alone.

Since English isn't my native language I would ask you to be gracious concerning grammar errors

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She let her head fall back into the cushions. The thin layer of sweat which was covering her brow wasn't a toll to the not-quite-yet-risen sun but to more exceptional circumstances. It was the one and only toll she conceded to the situation - her pride allowed her no more. So she stayed quiet despite the pain which was surging through her. If not for the pressing matters she had attend to she might had mused about the tightly woven relationship of pain and happiness. Instead she closed her eyes and tried to block out the smell of blood as well as the unhappy memories, which were awoken by it. It was a hard thing to do for the memories were fresh to her mind and the coppery smell was heavy in the air. 

As she focused her strong will to breast the waves of pain, the song of the just awoken birds faded from her consciousness as did the healer and the male next to her. She had known from the beginning that this was something she had to do on her own. With the practice of centuries she took back the control of her body. Already overused muscles were reactivated to finish the task that lay before them.

A shrieking cry pierced the silence of the room. It was a frightened sound that needed to be soothed. She opened her eyes to see the source of the crying.

"May I introduce your son to you?" The female sithi healer smiled as she lifted up the wailing infant so his parents could see him clearly. Then she set about to sever the last connection between the wailing infant and its tired mother. "Just another moment, my little one", she crooned at the baby. "You need to be cleaned first. Your parents shall dwell in your beauty undisturbed." The child itself didn't seem too impressed by the healers soothing words for it still whimpered like a newborn kitten.

While the healer took away the newborn to wash away the blood, the mother looked at the child's father, who still sat next to her. She reinforced the pressure on his hand, which was still linked to hers, as though to reassure him.

Their eyes meet and a communication that needed no words took place. She could tell by his unusual tension that he too longed to crane his neck after their newborn child. But they were dawn children and as such they were patient. They had waited long months for this precious little one – what were another few minutes to them?

Eventually the healer returned with the little boy. The small body was wrapped into a piece of white shimming cloth now, only a tuft of white hair visible among the silken foldings. He seemed to slumber peaceful now, pacified by a lukewarm bath and immemorial lullabies.

Once she settled her little one against her shoulder, she pushed open his wrapping to inspect her son. Carefully she counted fingers and toes, traced the outlines of one ear and touched his tiny nose. Woken from his shallow slumber by these strange sensations the small child opened his eyes and meet his mothers gaze. For long moments two pairs of amber eyes meet each other.

"He is beautiful" she said at last and made a nodding gesture, which involved her head as well as her long neck.

"Aye, he is", said the child's father who had watched the pair in his silent and unmoving way.

He leaned closer toward the infant, meeting its questioning gaze with a calm smile. One of his long and slender fingers traced the lines of the boy's face. When tapping a certain spot at the tiny nose the infant made a small noise similar to what a mortal would call a sneeze.

The father seemed delighted. "Who had thought that he would inherit a ticklish spot? And it was discovered in such a similar way", he chuckled while his wife was watching him in silence, "I was only a few days older than you are, my son, when my father…" He broke off in mid-sentence, the eyes suddenly dark from painful memories of other times and other places. It was not long before his expression also darkened.

"Maybe we were selfish to beget him. Look at the world we brought him to."

The mother looked at her husband and shook her head in silent disproval of his words. "Today, of all day, we should not dwell in these things", she said. "I won't let the mortals past or future doings cloud this day of renewal". When he did not answer, she touched his face and kissed his cheek carefully to drive away his dark mood.

A claiming contact on her breast made her break the kiss. She looked back to where the little bundle was settled. The little boy had wormed himself out of her protecting grip just to find his first meal shortly after that.

All dark thoughts forgotten the father chuckled again. "Our son seems to be determined to achieve what he wants by his own strength".

The mother's head whipped around and she stared at her husband for long moments. Then she closed her eyes and began to hum a strange melody. If her husband was irritated or worried by her behaviour, he didn't show it.

Before long the mother reopened her eyes, but they were unfocused as though she could see something no one else could.

When she began to speak her voice held a powerful ring. "It is decided then. I, Likimeya y-Briseyu no'e-Sa'onserei, Lady of the House of Year Dancing name you, my son, 'Jiriki'. I swear to love and to nourish you as long as I shall live."

Her husband's face had change into a solemn expression. After Likimeya's declaration he took the bundle from her arms and hold the small one in his own arms like Likimeya had done before him. "I, Shima'onari i-Sa'onserei, Lord of Jao é-Tinukai'i proclaim you, Jiriki, being my firstborn son and heir. I promise to love and protect you as long as I shall live".

After these words were spoken Shima'onari rearranged the cloth, which was wrapped only loose around Jiriki, before giving the small boy back to his wife.

"It's time to announce his birth to the tribe and record his name in the book of Year Dancing". Despite his parting words Shima'onari seemed reluctant to leave his new founded family. Nevertheless, the confirming and assuring nod he received from his wife sent him off.

After his departure Likimeya smiled once more and kissed Jiriki's brow. "Welcome to this world, my little Jiriki". The infant only looked at her.

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This is meant to be the first piece of a collection of sithi one-shorts. I fear my updates will quite irregular at best. 

Please RR


	2. Smoke, Part 1

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately enough the world of Osten Ard and all its characters belong to Tad Williams. I promise to give them back when I'm done playing.

**Inspiration**: "As the smoke and licking flames rose, the northerners routed out the last of the Sithi – those who had been too weak to or timid to flee, or who had felt too much loyalty to their immemorial home. In those fires Fingil's Rimmersmen did terrible deeds; the remaining Sithi had little strength left to resist. Their world had come to an end. The cruel murders, the heartless tortures and ravishings of unresisting victims, the laughing destruction of thousands exquisite and irreplaceable things – with all these Fingil Redhand's army put its crimson stamp on our history, and left a strain that never can be removed." Jarnauga (The Dragonbone Chair, Chapter 33 'From the Ashes of Asu'a)

**Warning**: This chapter contains dark topics like murder and rape. Even though I forego explicit descriptions, I increased the rating for this story. Consider yourself as being 'warned'.

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Smoke swirled through the corridor like a dark toxic cloud, even absorbing the light of the brightly burning flames.

Supporting himself with the heavy battle axe on the floor, the young Rimmersmen squatted down to regain at least some of his breath. But even at this low level this damn polluted air caused his eyes to water and his lungs to constrict in a coughing fit.

This whole military campaign was a never ending nightmare but he hadn't expected less from such a demon's den. He couldn't help but shudder as he remembered the things, which he had been told about these creatures by the priest of his tribe in the last summer before he joined the army of Fingil.

"_Wicked beasts are these creatures", the old man had said, his breath still containing the sour smell of the roots and leaves, which he had consumed just minutes before. _

_The young men of the tribe, who had gathered to receive the blessing of the gods for the upcoming war, stood in silence. _

_The only sound apart from the old man's chanting voice was the wind, which was rustling the leaves of the glade's trees. It also fuelled the flames of the cracking fire and by this lit the faces of the silent audience. _

_Grim were their faces, but also frightened. All of them had heard too many stories of these immortal beings and their doing to be ignorant to the things the priest told them now. _

_"They forsook their assigned place in the great tree, revolting against the gods by their appearance in the world Udun made for the mortals alone." The bones, which were attached to the old priest's knotted staff, rattled as he shook the same. "But we mortals are no fools – we do know why they came here". _

_At these words agreeing murmurs arose from the audience. A grin split the priest face and revealed a landscape of broken and dark teeth. "Yes, we do know it. They envied us the treasures of this world. Those treasures the gods gifted us with as exchange for our short lives. Just look at them: They rule over this land from the palladium they build from their haul. But the time has come for us to take back what is rightfully ours". _

_The priest smiled his almost wolfish smile as the raising war ballads rose to starlit sky. _

The confidence he felt at the glade during this night was gone from the young Rimmersmen's mind now. He was among the few members of his tribe, who had survived the forced march to the enemy's palladium and the following long lasting siege.

And before they would be able to collect their bitter earned price there was still bloody work to do. 'Let no one leave alive' was their order and they would fulfil it – Fingil and his lieutenants felt no pity with those they thought being wimpy or treacherous.

At the beginning the task at hand was a hard thing for him to do due reasons beyond swordsmanship. He had thought it a shame that they had to kill the females too. Those enchanting creatures, whose slim bodies he and another few fellow soldiers had tasted with so much delight. But now he knew better for he had learned the treachery of these vixens firsthand.

Since he and his comrade had been separated from their original raiding patrol, they had relished the lack of supervision and had acted to their very hearts desire.

Before long they had come up against a lonely fairy woman, who certainly had searched the castle for a safe hideout. Never being men, who let opportunities go by, they had taken her for themselves. A beautiful one she had been, slender but vigorous. And all the sounds she had made beneath his comrade! All these tearful cries and pained moans made him eagerly await his turn.

Being filled with anticipation he might have paid more attention to the shape of his companion than to the entrance he was supposed to keep a watch on. He still couldn't comprehend how, but suddenly this rage spitting male had attacked them out of nowhere.

Maybe he had been the mate of their catch or maybe her brother. Whatever bound the two immortals had shared didn't matter anymore for both sithi had lain lifeless in their own blood on the battleground's floor in the end. But so did his comrade. From that point he had been on his own in this demon's den.

Replaying his most recent past his mind again, the young soldier made a disgusted sound. This Sitha man must have been crazy – to die for just a single woman. What an unworthy death for a man!

Again the smoke made him cough. All this musing was worthless right now, he decided. It took him nowhere and this corridor wasn't exactly a good place to stay at. If he wanted to survive he had to regroup with his patrol before another of these creatures emerged out of nowhere.

Blinded by smoke as soon he left his crouching position, the Rimmersman used his free hand to support himself on the wall before him. Just in the second he was about to turn around, a blow from behind struck him at his back.

The sheer force of the impact made his body dashing into the wall before him. The iron battle axe, fallen from his other hand, clattered as it hit the floor. There was pain; he knew there was. But it felt as far and numb as the rest of his body did.

Slowly he lowered his glance to his chest. There it was. The tip of the sword, which had punctured his cuirass, was black as the smoke which whirled around him. In some way it looked almost unreal, for all the blood, which was flowing freely from his wound now, didn't left a damn single drop on that blasted thing. It was dark, cold and creepy. Just like the creatures, who had brought this weapon into existence.

He took, what was left of his strength, and turned his head and shoulders around as far as he could, while being pinned against a wall. However, it was enough to get sight of his assailant.

For a moment he thought that the crazy male, who had killed his comrade, had returned. But no, it was another. The hair of this one was as black as coal, not orange like the sunset. His face was darkened with smears of dried blood and carbon black. In contrast to thus shadowed head, which he held up so proudly, he wore a suit of armour, which almost gleamed in the smoke filled darkness of the corridor with its different shades of yellow and gold.

"…like…like a …crow…sitting on a giant… sunflower…" was the only coherent thought left in the mind of the mortal soldier before his world began to darken.

The last thing the young Rimmersman saw, before he was engulfed by the eternal night was the bright gaze of his slayer; brimming over with anger and horror and all the other emotions his alien face wouldn't show.

TBC

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Since this story is meant to illuminate the tragic scenes during the fall of Asu'a from the perspective of both included parties, I decided to split it in two parts. The second part will be written from the Sithi's point of view. 

As said before: English isn't my native language, so I ask you to be indulgent to me concerning spelling and grammatical errors.

Please RR


	3. Smoke, Part 2

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately enough the world of Osten Ard and all its characters belong to Tad Williams. I promise to give them back when I'm done playing.

**Inspiration**: "As the smoke and licking flames rose, the northerners routed out the last of the Sithi – those who had been too weak to or timid to flee, or who had felt too much loyalty to their immemorial home. In those fires Fingil's Rimmersmen did terrible deeds; the remaining Sithi had little strength left to resist. Their world had come to an end. The cruel murders, the heartless tortures and ravishings of unresisting victims, the laughing destruction of thousands exquisite and irreplaceable things – with all these Fingil Redhand's army put its crimson stamp on our history, and left a strain that never can be removed." Jarnauga (The Dragonbone Chair, Chapter 33 'From the Ashes of Asu'a)

**Warning**: This chapter contains dark topics like murder and rape. Even though I forego explicit descriptions, I increased the rating for this story. Consider yourself as being 'warned'.

* * *

Unimpressed by the death of the young Rimmersmen, the smoke followed its unswerving dance at the dark corridor. If there hadn't been his bright armour, the motionless silhouette of the Sitha man had been blended completely into the dark vapours.

Silent he stood, the expression as dark as his braided hair. His gaze was fixed on the limp body of his opponent, who had slumped down as life left him, dragging the black blade in his chest along.

With an odd fluent movement, which seemed to mock the existence of joints, the fairy men taunted his sword arm and shoulder as he tried to free the weapon from the clasp of the corpse's chest. There was a scrapping sound, which seemed far too tiny to be heard at the madness of Asu'a last day, and the blade's movement stopped.

The Sitha's features changed into a mask of bewilderment, the golden eyes wide within the darkness. Another try to release the blade served only to prove its motionlessness. The fruitless struggle for the weapon's freedom seemed only to add to the blades owner's dark frame of mind since he produced a sound from his throat, which could have been both to a mortal's ear; a snort of disgust or a sob of despair.

Whatever it was, it died away before long and remained the only one of its kind. The head bend to one side and the golden eyes closed the Sitha remained unmoving once more.

After a short moment the golden eyes reopened with a strong-willed glint. Slowly, as if he was fighting against some kind of maelstrom, the Sitha put one of his small foot on the Rimmersmen's armour clad back to reinforce his stance and resumed to pull at the sword's hilt.

Before long, the blade came free with an almost violent jolt, which let the sword's owner tumble back various steps.

But instead of moving on now to wherever he was headed to, the slender body sank to the floor. The angular face ashen and sweaty he laid next to the cooling body of his slain opponent on the corridor's alabaster tiles, trembling in cramps of some sort for long minutes.

With his limbs finally stilled and the air returning to his lungs the black haired Sitha dragged himself to his feet and moved slowly down the way before him, the sounds of his unsteady steps swallowed by the ever present noise of battle.

--

The face still ashen but the steps more steady now, the fairy swordsmen followed the path of the corridor, using the once shining walls to support himself from time to time.

The air around him was full of tiny sooty particles and the heavy odour of burned things. But albeit of its choking stench, the smoke couldn't completely mask the new sweet-metallic aroma which now began to fill the nostrils of the lonely Sitha.

The small eyes glinting with alertness he stopped his steps and remained hidden in the shadows of the corridor – examining the scent like a hurt predator, which tried to decide if the game before him would be worth the risk of attacking.

Suddenly a drift of air, which - by mortal standards – shouldn't be able to exist at this place, chased the smoky tendrils from his sight and revealed three still silhouettes on the floor.

Lifeless they lay there, like rag dolls, who had been abandoned by their small owners.

After a silent moment he hesitantly started to approach the two slender schemes, while forgoing the third more compact shadow completely. Kneeling down, he turned around the first body with unsteady hands. When he could finally see the face of his fallen kinsman, his brows knotted in faint sorrow.

However, the mourning couldn't mask the other emotion, which was written to the features of his normally composed face. In an odd way, the Sitha seemed relieved as though he had expected someone else lying dead on the floor. The body under his hands decided to use this very moment to prove his lacking medical judgment to him by moving a little.

Clearly taken aback the black haired one peered into the face of the fallen Sitha before him, whose hair might have been orange like the sunset once, before it became tainted with blood.

"...my…Hana'yome…" The eyes remained closed, while the voice, which was nothing more than a hoarse whisper from a tattered body, spoke. As though the few words alone had swallowed what he had left of strength, he felt silent again.

The black haired one nodded and even though the other couldn't see his small motion of understanding his torn body relaxed a bit.

Forsaking his kneeling position next to his fallen kinsmen, the fairy swordsman approached the second still figure, which lay only a few paces away from the first.

When his gaze felt upon her bloody body, a small strangled sound escaped his throat. The shreds of the once shiny dress and the blood on her inner thighs witnessed the ordeal she had to endure before death claimed her.

He took off the thin cloak, which he had worn, and wrapped the still female body into it. Before long the traces of her violent end disappeared under the cloak, even though bloody flowers bloomed on the pale fabric within seconds.

As the wrapped bundle was placed next to him, the fallen sitha man turned his face towards it and a small smile touched his lips. For a moment it seemed as if he had wanted to say something else, but his chest never rose again.

No one listened as the departing steps faded into silence.

--

His hair was red as the fire, whose shine was glinting on its braided surface. These very braids, which dangled before his eyes now, had become the curtains of his narrowed world. This world had been made up of light and air for countless years and but with this fateful day it suddenly became constricted to two most trivial things: a chain of cold iron, which was pulled tightly against his throat from behind and the mocking voice of his attacker.

"You **did** ask for this kind of game, you know" the Rimmersman grunted, "biting me as playfully as you did". The voice of the northern soldier sounded a bit washed-out as though its owner wasn't completely in control of his tongue. Blood was wetting his bottom lip. "But this bridle should rein you for sure, wild one".

Even though his face was contorted with obvious pain and some strange kind to revulsion, the red haired Sitha growled and snarled like a crazy beast while fighting against his cruel bond and the one, who bestowed it upon him. His not quite human sounds of hate and fear mingled with the surprised grunting of the Rimmersman and were echoed by the shiny walls of the hall.

Suddenly there was a yelp of pain from beyond and he was free. The iron chain clattered to the ground and the freed Sitha broke to his knees. While cooling his burning brow against the tiles of the hall's ground, he stayed on his elbows and knees for long moments, as though he prayed to his ancestors to end this madness.

When he felt a small hand on his back, he slowly lifted himself into a sitting position. He turned his gaze to his saviour and the raw emotions in his eyes dimmished. "Aniki. It is you." Even though the red-haired Sitha seemed to have regained his collectedness to some point, his voice trembled a little when he spoke.

The black-haired fairy swordsman frowned unhappy. "I have been … delayed. Forgive me". He rose to his feet and helped his companion to follow his suit. When they both stood, the burning eyes of the dark haired one started to move in his mask-like face. Apparently the subject of this search wasn't to be found and a frown crept slowly over his golden features. "I expected to find you sister with you". His companion lifted his gaze from the tiles, at which he had stared in what seemed to be a strange way of fascination for awhile now. "She was. I fell short to ensure safety of our passage. And then…" The Sitha fell silent and touched lightly his throat, while turning his burning gaze to the silent mass, which lay not far away from them. "She should not be far head", he said at last and turned around to point to the smoke clouded doorway to their left.

"Let's move on then. Time is short."

--

A pair of golden eyes stared unseeing to the ceiling above. Still as stone, she lay, undisturbed by the presence of the sword wielder, who stood next to her fallen body. Both silhouettes remained unmoving, even though the sound of approaching foot steps started to infiltrate the silence of the great hall.

The sound of the steps rose in volume until two male Sithi emerged from the darkness of the corridor. As their eyes took in the solemn scene before them, their steps faltered and they came to halt just a few paces away from the silent body and its unmoving observer.

Although it was covered with blood, both males recognized the face of the slain woman before them and while the face the fairy swordsman was clouded with heavy grief, his red haired kinsmen blanched as though he had lost all of his blood due some terrible but invisible wound. When his black haired companion turned around and touched his shoulder, the grief-stricken Sitha shook it off.

After this failed attempt of comfort the black-haired Sitha left his relative to himself and approached the still unmoving sword wielder. Even from the distance he could see the petrified face and tense posture of the Sitha woman, who stood there. When he reached her side he raised his hand to her face as if to see for himself that she was a living creature and not a statue made of precious stone. She didn't acknowledge his presence though, regardless of the still lingering touch of his fingertips on the line of her jaw.

"Another knot in the endless skein", he said, the voice hushed and sad, "but our mourning songs for her will have to wait. I came to fetch you because time is short." Stirred by the gentle words the silent female turned her head somewhat, so she could see his face from the corner of her eyes. Due to this small movement the polished stones, which were weaved into her coppery braids, made muted clicking sounds. "We can't leave her" she said, her voice being as cold as the attire of her hair. The black haired male made an unconscious sound in the back of his throat. "We have to. First Grandmother is waiting for us" he said with a voice that hold more then a hint of urgency.

When she turned her face away from him to resume her silent observation of the fallen body before her, the fairy swordsmen closed the last distance between them and rested his brow on her temple.

"Please, koibito", he said. His words were almost inaudible, small whispers, meant for her ears alone. "I promised to my grandmother that I would live, but I won't leave our great house without you. After everything we lost, you can't ask that from me."

Hearing his pleading words, her features melted into an expression of something akin to fondness and she gave him a small unhappy smile. "To weight me with his kind of responsibility is a cruel thing of you to do. But you are right. I promised we would leave together and I won't shrink away from my obligation". She freed herself from his strange embracement and approached the red haired male, who still starred at the fallen body with an ashen face and a feverish glint in his eyes. "Come, my brother", she said, her voice suddenly strong and metallic as the shade of her hair, "let us move on. If we are lucky, life awaits us." When her brother didn't move, her eyes became small and gave him a little shove. This earned her a small hiss and an angry glare from her target, but he started to move on nevertheless.

Leaving the fallen body behind, the trio crossed to hall together in silence. Her companions had already vanished into another smoke filled corridor, when the stern woman stopped and turned around for a last glance at the silent silhouette one the hall's floor. "Farewell, mother…" she said before following her brother and her beloved into the shadows. Together they headed to a new world, since theirs had ended.

* * *

Note of the author:

The acting sithi characters of this 'chapter' aren't meant to be random. Although I didn't give away their names, I think their identity is quite obvious to all, who did read the books.

One more thing concerning their kind of speech: In the Sithi society, as it is described at MS&T, there can be found various references to the Japanese culture, e.g. some of the characters names. Since there isn't a whole phase book for the language of the garden (I mourn this fact gravely), I decided to use the few Japanese terms I know instead:

Aniki: this is a formal term for 'older brother', which is often used to refer to senior member of a group. Since the two male sithi in this story aren't true brothers, I found it more fitting than 'o-ni-san'.

Koibito: this term literally means 'beloved'. It is used as term of address for someone you love in a non-platonic way.


	4. Siblings

Disclaimer: Unfortunately the MS&T characters don't belong to me but to Tad Williams alone. I promise to return them once I'm done playing ^.^

Since English isn't my native language I would ask you to be gracious concerning grammar errors. Let me know and I will correct findings ...

* * *

The gold-brown finger froze in its motion just before it could actually move the carefully carved shent-stone from its position on the game board. Although the owner of finger and stone didn't stir another muscle, his posture suddenly seemed rigid. Outside the sun started to sink toward the horizon and its dwindling beams created dancing shadows on the walls made of moving cloth. After long moments of complete stillness the sitha moved his head slightly to cast a glance over his shoulder. Beside himself, the shent board on the low table in front of him and a small crystal lamp, which started to glow softly within the darkening shadows, there wasn't much to be seen. In fact the chamber seemed strangely unoccupied, as though it had become a home to someone just recently.

The sound of whispering cloth behind him was so vague that a mortal ear wouldn't have noticed it but the lonely player jerked his head up. Though the assaulter had been giving away his hiding place by the small sound, the assaulted could do little more than bracing himself before something leapt out from the shadows and collided with his slender back. The power of the impact made him bump heavily against the low table, sending the shent board and stones tumbling to the grassy floor. After the muted clattering of the falling stones had passed, silence sank in once again. The sitha stared at his ruined game, for the moment undisturbed by the fact that someone clung around his neck.

Now the assaulters head poked over the sithas shoulder. Surprisingly enough the head, which came into view, did belong to a child. It was a small girl, who clung at the sitha like a little monkey. With her small stature and her face of babyish chubbiness she didn't look older as a mortal child of three or four summers. Compared to her prey she was tiny. But the inequality to her opponent didn't seem to impress her at all. Wearing a mask of childish excitement she giggled and peered into the face of her victim. Her 'prey' on his part struggled to keep a placid expression on his face, but eventually lost against his features. This was less a testimony to his anger but more to the fact that he, who had barely reached his adolescence, lacked decades of practice. So he neither could hinder a frown from appearing onto his narrow face nor the irritated sigh that escaped his lips. "Could you let go of me, Aditu?" he asked in a silent but tight voice, "this is kind of uncomfortable…" But the little girl didn't heed his request. Instead she hugged her victim's neck from her position on his back in an almost chocking manner.

"You were surprised, weren't you, ani'ue?" she giggled "I was moving all silent to surprise you. Father said that I'm good at moving all silent".

The eyebrows of her assaulted brother shoot up. "You didn't surprise him like that, did you?" he asked, trying carefully to keep his tone neutral.

"Oh, of course I did. It was so easy; he didn't look at all at the tree I was hiding in. So he was all surprised when I landed on his shoulders". Jiriki tried to restrain his lips from curling into a smile when he pictured the scene: his tall and serious father having his neck and shoulders clutched by a child, who barely reached his knee.

"You were just as easy" Aditu announced in childish pride. Then suddenly turning serious in a way only little children could muster, she gave her brother a dark look. "You should be more aware of your surroundings, you really should". Her brother didn't return her look. "I was occupied otherwise…" he muttered and glanced at the scattered shent stones on the grassy floor. His sister followed his glaze. "Oh…." she said in a small voice and apologetically rubbed her cheek against his, "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to ruin your game". "I know" he said, no longer sounding irritated, "but you should be more careful when it comes to jumping on people. They could do something dangerous". She nodded but didn't seem too concerned about the prospect of jumping on someone, who was handling a weapon or a crafting tool. Her brother sighed again. "Who is your playing opponent?" the little girl suddenly asked, "I should apologize to him or her too. Now the two of you have you start anew".

The older slightly shook his head. "There is no one. I was playing by myself."

"Why would one do such a thing? Playing with a real opponent should be much more interesting" Aditu shook her head in incomprehension of adults. Her brother still starred at the board and stones in the grass and said nothing. Long moments passed in silence. "It is better to train by yourself when you wish to improve" Jiriki said suddenly, the voice full of some kind of grim determination. "I wish to become an interesting opponent after all". Aditu didn't seem to have noticed that her brother answered her question at last. She was completely absorbed by peering at his hairdo. With a careful hand, no human child would possess she extricated one braid from its place in the careful arrangement. "Mother allowed you to dye your hair" she whispered softly while admiring the lavender-blue braid she was holding in her hand. "It is really a pretty color. I want to dye my hair in the same color once I'm allowed to." She declared. Her brother softly sighed again and his shoulders lost some of their determined tension.

"Could you let go of me now, Aditu? This is really getting uncomfortable…" Something in his voice urged her to comply and so she abandoned her post on his back for the sake of his lap. From there she looked with careful eyes, as he placed board and stones back on the table.

"Why is being an 'interesting opponent' such an important thing?" she finally asked after she had observed her brothers careful actions for a while.

Jiriki had finished his rearrangements and starred now on the polished stones. When he spoke, his voice sounded small, as though as it belonged to a little boy and not to a youth. "What else would be left…?"

Hearing that, his sister laughed out loud. "That is nonsense, ani'ue!" she exclaimed "There are so many things to do! You could make daisy chains, climbing in trees, diving in forest fonds, collecting berries, sing with birds…"

"…or go home so your waiting parents could enjoy their evening meal without worrying about the whereabouts of their youngest". The voice, which spoke these words, belonged to neither of the siblings but to a woman with braids of coppery red, who stood in the room's entrance. "Haha'ue" Aditu beamed and struggled free from her place in her brother's lap, rushed over and clung herself to her mother's leg. As the woman's hand tenderly stroked over Aditu's white-haired head, the little girl seemed ready to bounce with happiness. "But before we can eat, you should give your excuses to your father for startling him like that" Likimeya's face and voice were gentle but firm. "Is father very upset with me?" her little one asked with her eyes now fixed on the floor. "You should ask him that by yourself, shouldn't you?" When Aditu nodded, Likimeya padded softly the girl's head. "Run along, then. I shall follow soon." Aditu turned to her older brother, who also had rose to greet their mother. She opened her arms for a goodbye hug and this time it was her brother who did comply. Needing no further encouragement the little sithi girl headed home, prepared to make atonements with her father. Jiriki didn't doubt for a second that Shima'onari's forgiveness would be quick and complete.

When the sounds of little footsteps had faded, Likimeya turned to her son. Her golden gaze was full of intent and seemed to scrutinize the sight of the tall youth in front of her. Then, her eyes narrowed for a fraction as through she had spotted something. She reached out and the gentleness, with which she rewove the discarded braid into her son's hairdo, would have surprised many. Something in the way her son turned his head to give her better access indicated that he wouldn't be counted among those.

"There" His mother's voice was deep. She took a step back and gave her son a little smile. "You, too, should think about your evening meal. Growing, in the way you recently do, needs a lot of nourishment. And since some of the things you grow in your garden look quite edible, you should be able to sate this need." She sharply nodded her head as if to agree with her own sentence. Then she brought forward something from her robe, which was wrapped in shimmering cloth and laid it into her son's outstretched palms. When Jiriki opened the small package, he found a fruit soft and pale like the moon above. With a last nod she turned to leave but once she reached the chamber's door she stopped. "Your sister is right, you know", she said without turning, "Playing with a real opponent is much more interesting. So once you are done with your training, your father and I will be quite willing to witness your improvement". With these words she left to rejoin her husband and her little daughter for the evening. In the darkening room, which she had just left, stood the young sitha, who was neither child nor adult, and starred at the fruit in his hands, which had been his favorite since the day he had been weaned.

* * *

Concerning sithi speech: I know that the language of the gardenborn doesn't show many parallels with japanese - if you ignore some of the names. But since there isn't a whole phase book for the language of the garden (I mourn this fact gravely) and I have no idea what else could be the fitting language in real, I decided to stick with what I know (at least a bit) and use the some modified Japanese terms instead :

Ani'ue: respectful way to address your older brother

Haha'ue: respectful way to address your mother

Please RR


End file.
